borrowed & never returned
by another moment gone
Summary: one shot. Fridays were the nights that usually held promises. Guarantees that a girl will get her first slow dance with the boy she’s been crushing on since 5th grade. Friday was the night that held that promise of a high-expectation. R


_**borrowed && never returned

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_-another moment gone-

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_Yes, I was one of those pathetic girls. One of those girls who was passionate in everything she did, one of those girls who had the heart and balls to fall completely head over heels for her first boyfriend. Or one of those girls who hated—loved—a complete jerk._

_Yup, I'm one of those girls.

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Monday.

Monday's are the worst of them all. They stretch _on _and _on _and _on._ I mean honestly? No one likes Mondays, so why do we even keep them? Even teachers complain about Mondays even through their faux smiles.

Mondays suck.

Mondays are when I'm stuck rolling over after an eventful night where I'm tossing and turning trying not to worry about my following test, or waking up, and then losing all the sleep I should've had.

Monday is the definition of _living hell_.

Monday is the day that I roll out of, rubbing my sleepy eyes, and padding to the bathroom where I take a shower with my eyes closed.

Monday was the first day that I have to sit next to him in class.

Mondays were unbearable.

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Tuesday.

Tuesday is the third day of the week. Tuesdays will always be the third day of the week. Always.

Tuesdays he wore a cocky, smirk that grew denser and denser as I got older.

Tuesdays he would go around and flirt with one of his unlucky girl-toys that day. Poor girls, I pitied them for falling for his charming ways.

Tuesdays he had the pleasure in teasing you to no end. He had specifically chosen _you _to go help the teacher who was creepy and hit on little girls.

Tuesdays were about as bad as Mondays.

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Wednesday.

Wednesday he wore a gray shirt.

Not that it mattered to you or not—because you hate him—but he did. And that's what counts.

Wednesdays he had the same smug expression plastered on his face that elated when he was around you.

Wednesday he asked you out.

Wednesdays were about as neutral as Switzerland.

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Thursday.

Thursdays were home plates. The ones you looked forward to because it just meant you were a day away from the most exciting day of the week—right?

Thursday was the day you said yes to him.

Thursday you made the biggest mistake of your life.

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Friday.

Fridays were the nights that usually held promises.

Guarantees that a girl will get her first slow dance with the boy she's been crushing on since 5th grade.

Friday was the night that held that promise of a high-expectation.

Friday night was the night of all nights. The day when you went to the mall to go get a new skirt for the occasion with your girl friends, the day when you spent a little extra time in the bathroom swiping a coat of mascara upon your eyelashes.

Friday happened to hold a very important promise and wish.

Despite the stupid smirks and cocky grins you received from that shaggy headed, brown-eyed boy—you had fallen ludicrously for him. And there was no time to pull out like a coward—even if you wanted to…

Fridays made you hate all promises—and bets—

Cause Friday, he told you it was all a bet.

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Saturday.

Saturdays were usually a pretty bearable day of the week. They allowed you to catch up on the lost sleep, they opened and opportunity to have an eventful cynical girly sleepover with an intense game of truth and dare.

Saturdays were usually fun.

Saturdays you spent you time moping around and drying your eyes.

Saturday was your recovering day.

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Sunday.

Sunday was the beginning and new start of the week. Sundays were the days you relied on. Because with a such a delicate stage in your life, you needed a new fresh canvas to paint upon.

You basically hate Sundays.  
You're stuck going to church and spending an hour trying to stay awake—most of the time—and you're stuck in the same room as him.

Sundays are weak and boring beginnings for you.

Sundays had to pass for you to realize it was only puppy love. The feelings that swirled and whirled in and out of your mind for days on.

Sunday was the day you got over him…

Right?

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Review.

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-_another moment gone- _


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